


Those Halcyon Days

by parsnips (trifles)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Horror, M/M, Multi, Rape, Sibling Incest, Stockholm Syndrome, Time Loop, Trapped, Twins, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-29
Updated: 2004-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trifles/pseuds/parsnips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Hermione was twelve and they were on the train to Hogwarts, Ron waited until Harry went to the loo and then asked her to be careful around his brothers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Halcyon Days

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 9.29.04, for the September Fantasy Fest at pornish_pixies. Manfully beta'd by the Dyke Squad, and with much appreciation. Additional warnings: violent statutory rape, voyeurism, underage "participants", implied incest, general horror.

  
When Hermione was eleven, the world got bigger. There was magic, and it was real, and she was going to a school where absolutely no one knew her at all and then she met Harry and Ron and they were mean at first but then they were all three the best of friends and it was so nice to have friends instead of the stupid things she'd had previously and really, it was all just the best best best it could possibly ever be.

Hermione was a first year, and so were Ron and Harry, and she and Harry had no siblings but Ron had a younger sister and several brothers and two of them, twins, were still at Hogwarts. She saw them sometimes, usually in the common room or coming in from Quidditch practice with Harry. They liked to poke fun at Ron, ruffle his hair, tip over his chessmen, and sometimes, circling around, they'd try to tickle Hermione's neck. Ron seemed to hate it when they did that, though Hermione just found it bothersome. Sometimes they would palm one of Ron's knights and drop it down her sweater, and when Hermione pulled it out Ron would be bright red and the twins would laugh and laugh.

\--

When Hermione was twelve and they were on the train to Hogwarts, Ron waited until Harry went to the loo and then asked her to be careful around his brothers. "Sometimes," he said, "they like to get up to things, especially if they notice you." Hermione thought this was stupid, and said so. Ron shrugged, and looked out the window and then asked if she'd finished her chocolate frog and Harry came back and Fred and George were with him and Harry looked odd but not as odd as the twins looked when they looked at her.

Right at the end of her second year Hermione got frozen, and it was a strange and wrong and when she woke up her skin was dirty. She asked the nurse if that was normal and Madame Pomfrey tucked one of Hermione's frizzes of hair behind her ear and said some things were more normal than others. Just before she went back to her office, Pomfrey asked if it was all right if only Harry, Ron, and professors visited her, instead of just anyone. "Who else might visit me?" Hermione asked and Madame Pomfrey said, "Housemates and acquaintances... Those that don't belong."

\--

It was when Hermione was thirteen that Fred and George sat down on either side of her in the common room. They spent several minutes stealing her quills from her, tugging her hair, and finally each leaned to one of her ears and whisper-whined, "_Hermione..._"

There was a fire burning. There was an ocean's worth of winter beyond the windows, and Arithmancy homework was spread over Hermione's chapped knees. On her neck hung a gold charm that nobody knew about, except she thought that maybe the twins had guessed, that that was why they were sitting here ankles to thighs to shoulders. Their breath was warm and touched her face and made her skin dirty, and when she didn't answer them they laughed.

"Pay attention to us, dear heart," George said.

Fred said, "Is she too prim to take a bit of fun?"

"Let's find out," George said.

And Hermione later thought it out very carefully, and determined that the worst bit, the absolute worst, was that they smiled, stood up, and left the common room without doing another thing further. They'd left her sitting alone, but she still felt like there were two hands shaped like boys pressing against her to make room where there rightly was none. In the grate logs sizzled and cracked like popped lightbulbs. Across the room, almost out of view, Ron was watching the fire as well, and Hermione wished she knew where Harry was.

\--

The next morning at breakfast, Harry and Ron weren't speaking to one another. Hermione sat between them, and across from her sat the twins. Their heads were bent toward one another while they shared a whispered conference. Their hair, the exact same shade of reddish orange, slid together when Fred pressed his cheek to George's to murmur something. Their skin, pale except for two raised scraps of color, blended and turned them into a fantastic two-bodied beast when George leaned further and brushed his speaking lips against Fred's ear. A moment later they separated, and each picked up a syrup container to pour over their individual bowls of porridge.

Fred held out his container and said, "Honey, Harry?"

Ron left the table.

George said, "How about you, Hermione?"

Harry followed Ron out of the great hall.

Hermione said, "No, thank you."

The twins looked at her, identical shades of bright brown eyes studying her face. George said, "Will you want some later, I wonder?"

Hermione felt confused. She said, "I do like honey. I just don't want any now."

Fred said, "Do you hear that, George? The friendly little thing _likes_ honey!"

"Marvelous," said George. "We must be sure to ask her later, then."

And then the twins stood up and left the great hall as well. Hermione watched them go, laughing and swaying into one another as if drunk. Hermione felt like she'd agreed to something without knowing what was wanted of her, or how she was to pay, and she felt no small amount of discomfort from it.

\--

A cold wind throbbed against the castle walls; Ron came up to Hermione at half past midnight and said there was a problem. His whisper was desperate, and the sound was harsh and loud in the echoing, empty common room. She must come quickly, he said, "It's Harry, there's something wrong, please Hermione, just come."

Her notes slid off her lap as she gracelessly stood. Ron wrapped them both in Harry's invisibility cloak, how could Harry have gone off without it, reckless, stupid, stupid boy. "Where are we going?" Hermione asked in breathless tones and Ron only answered with silence.

She had to run to keep up with him; every step threatened to rip her from the cloak and make her lose her way to Harry. Harry. Ron was sobbing now, the coughs and wracking inhalations of adolescent tears the only sound he made as they ran, out of the castle, toward the Quidditch pitch, toward the Quidditch locker rooms. The wind sucked like currents at the fabric of the cloak, trying to draw it off them and when it failed, tried to take their skin instead. Every second they were in it the cold became worse; the cloak was nothing against it. Her skin ached, her face and fingers became numb, and the hourglass beneath her blouse became a searing brand that burned between the shallow hollow of her breasts.

There was an entrance coming up, a door, open, slam shut. No light. For the first few moments she was there, before her eyes ceased their watering and the cloak slipped from her head, she was glad to be out of the wind. She could hear Ron crying still, somewhere behind her. "Calm down, Ron." _Lumos._

Before Hermione could fully illuminate the room she saw a hand, long and knuckled, reach out and pluck her wand from her. The witchlight sparked out, interrupting the dark room with a flash of light that revealed Harry, her Harry, before her, a meter from her, barechested and head hung loose in unconsciousness.

Within seconds of the dark closing in again, a hand touched her arm. Another hand touched her head. There was someone touching her throat, and someone's voice said, "Surprise, Hermione."

The hand at her throat abruptly pulled her back, and she landed hard against a man's chest. Someone else stood at her left pressing against her as well, and she could feel, oh God, she could feel erections on her, touching _her_ through her clothes and she tried to pull away from the feeling and the hand at her throat curved around her and it was an aching sort of pain that would collapse her trachea if she wrenched too hard against it--

"Ron," she said. "Ron!"

And then she said, "Harry!"

Nothing. The men behind her... she knew their voices and the shape of their humor. Finally she whispered, "I'll tell your mother."

"Tell her what, darling?" --It was a brother who spoke, but which one? She couldn't tell, not in the dark, not in the light, it didn't matter, it was both of them. The one with the hand around her neck said, "You could tell her what a bad girl you've been."

"Oh yes," said the brother caressing her arm, rocking his erection against her hip, "You could tell her how you'd followed ickle Ronikins out to the locker rooms past midnight and stayed there all the rest of the evening. After that, you could tell a mother any number of things and all she'd remember--"

Her head was wrenched back; the other voice said, "--And we are very certain of this--"

They shoved her away, and she stumbled onto the concrete floor. "--All she'd remember was what a whore you'd been."

Hermione scuttled forwards on hands and knees. Out, out. Suddenly a blaze of light filled the room, obscenely stark and revealing how stupid she'd been. The wrong way, she'd been going further in, toward the showers and away, too far away, from the door. The brothers bent down and one red-headed, naked boy pulled her up by her hair while the other pinched her breast and laughed as she screamed. "So that's why Ronald likes you best," he said, "you're just like him. Remember those halcyon days, Fred?"

"Too right," Fred said, "though he's become all dull lately."

"Rather like Harry," said George.

"Yes," said Fred, "but then again, after hearing about Harry's homelife, I'm not terribly surprised with how quickly he stopped being interesting."

Cheerfully they continued on. Fred kept his hand twisted in her hair, George fondled her left breast, right breast, she wished she could go numb and feel nothing of it. Hermione's eyes were watering, her breath was ragged. She was facing the wrong way, dammit, if they'd turn her to the door she'd have a chance. Or-- God, the time-turner. One hand and she could do it, get out, warn the headmaster that there was something wrong, wrong with all of them, Voldemort, possession, evil, something. One hand and she was free--

Without warning she stomped her booted foot on Fred's bare one and threw herself sideways into George. George went off-balance and stumbled back, but Fred only swore loudly and used his grip on her hair to wrench her sideways to the ground. She could feel strands rip out, she was screaming, but it didn't matter because one hand kept her from the ground and one hand was left free. She fumbled at the chain around her neck, pulling, pulling, the charm slid away from her, she was crying now, and then someone grabbed her arms and yanked them behind her. The chain slid back down her shirt. She was bent like a ship's figurehead, pulled to her knees; the ship that held her swayed.

"I'm sorry, sorry, Hermione, sorry..."

Ron.

"You do have your uses, brother o' mine," said one of the twins -- she'd lost track of them again. One stepped into view, the first time she'd seen any face full-on since the lights turned bright. The face looked the same, God, just the same as it had for three years, bright brown eyes and red-orange hair and pale skin brushed with color. He smiled, and that smile looked just like any the twins had given before this. He had Ron lift her to her feet and turn so that she could just see Harry, naked, strung from a showerhead beside her, his left wrist tied up by a Gryffindor tie, his right hand free and limp by his side. It was somehow more startling to see Harry naked than Fred and George. Harry was like her. It wasn't the way he was supposed to be. And Hermione said, "You're not evil, are you."

The twin in front of her smiled gamely. "I don't think so," he said. "Are you?"

Hermione spat at him.

Ron's hands on her arms tightened. He said quietly, "Please, don't."

Her defiance had hit the brother's chest. He wiped it away with three fingers; he slapped her mouth with the same hand. Her lip split against her teeth; she could feel heat rise up in her face as the taste of warm metal touched her tongue. The blow was a gentle tap compared to what had come before. Perhaps this was George. He said, "I've got an idea."

The one Hermione thought was George yanked up her legs, letting her skirt fly high around her thighs, while the other twin must have knocked Ron's knees out from under him. George let go of her legs just as Ron crashed to the floor, leaving Hermione sprawled with her head in Ron's lap and her bum burning in pain, she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, her face right on Ron's body and she couldn't feel any hideous erection like his brothers' had; he was safer than the twins, but God, not by much-- and Ron breathing rapid, shallow breaths to dull whatever pain he felt from the tumble, his hands still gripping her upper arms like he was going to pull her from deep water.

George was on his knees, straddling her ankles, his bones knobs she could feel through her boot leathers and his thighs thick heavy heat, while his brother stayed out of sight, she didn't know where, until she felt another pair of hands on her arms, and knew he must be sitting somewhere very close behind Ron. George said, "You know, Ronald, we did warn you."

A voice from behind her said, "What did Mother always tell you?"

The twin at her feet leaned forward and placed the palms of his hands on her kneecaps. "_Listen to your Fred and George,_" he singsonged, and ran a finger up her thigh. She twitched and skittered, God it wasn't right.

Fred rubbed his thumbs along the soft inside of her arms, mimicking the touch on her thigh and cresting over Ron's hands as well. He said, "And see now what happens, Ron, when you don't do what you're told?"

"All sorts of bad things, really."

"Next you'll be mouthing off to professors and skiving off from your _lessons._"

"Shame, really."

"Yes. We quite like giving them."

Ron was shaking in place. Tears and drips of mucus dropped onto Hermione's face and ran like they were her own. It felt like Ron was nodding. "Yes, yes, I shouldn't have been disobedient, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Ron," Hermione said quickly, one chance, one chance, "Whatever you did, it doesn't matter, we can escape, we can throw them off together, come on, Ron, just--!"

A hand thrust itself up her skirt, pushed aside the thin cotton of her pants and touched her _there_, rough fingers taking her most sensitive spot and fucking God _pinching with nails_ Hermione screamed and curled away away pressing her knees together and she tried to kick it didn't stop didn't stop it felt like ripping away stinging blood she had to die it hurt hurt hurt--

"There are rules, dear heart."

The fingers had withdrawn, spread her pants back over her, but the hand stayed, petting her secret spot like some sort of animal charmer. Each touch was a flash of pain. Hermione opened her eyes and saw the twin at her feet leaning forward with his hand up her skirt, his muscles and tendons flexing just the smallest bit as he stroked her lightly. "There now," he said. "You've done something you shouldn't have, and something bad happened. Ron there did something he shouldn't have--"

"Or rather," Fred said, "didn't do someone he should have done. Harry was ever so disappointed."

George said, "Yes, he was bad, and that's why you're here. Though seeing you like this..." His gaze teased up her body, and where his eyes went it felt like fingers. "Seeing you like this makes me wish we'd gotten you a great deal sooner..."

When she didn't acknowledge him, his expression never changed, but he let one finger tease the edge of her pants. Hermione clenched her knees together and tried to rock away. He laughed.

"Oy, this is just about you fancying her, isn't it," said Fred. He pinched the soft bit of her arms; she jerked. "Should've known you'd go for a bit of tit on top of everything else."

"Quite small a bit, isn't it?" George took his hand from out her skirt and spread his filthy, blooded fingers over Hermione's breast. "That's all right," he said, "I like small things. Ron, hold her."

And George started unbelting her skirt, and she kicked and screamed but he took it off anyway, took her pants and rolled them down her hips and thighs and down down faster off and she wrenched her arms trying to pull away from Ron and Fred, choking screams and George spread her legs and he was touching thick blunt big ripping splitting breaking her her Hermione out as bad as in as bad as out as pain tearing cutting scraping her on the floor and pushing her head against Ron's crotch until he was touching her too, everyone was touching, George got up and Fred came round and out as bad as in as bad as out and George leaned down and bit her breasts like biting snakes and Ron moaned and cried and moaned and jerked against her head and Fred finished and George unbuttoned her shirt down down down sparkle gold and sparkle golden chain with golden charm "What's this," said George, "what's

\--

When Hermione was eleven, the world got bigger.

Hermione was a first year, and so were Ron and Harry, and she and Harry had no siblings but Ron had a younger sister and several brothers and two of them, twins, were still at Hogwarts. The very first time she met them they came and sat beside her on the train to school and very pleasant, with such nice smiles, they said, "You must be Hermione."

  
END


End file.
